The Choice
by My Beautiful Ending
Summary: Sometimes, a choice can change everything. Rowan's aelfen grandmother, Amaranth, makes a choice to love a mortal and become mortal herself, thus determining the course of her story, her daughter's story, and her granddaughter's story as we know it.
1. The Choice

_**The Choice**_

Sometimes, a choice is meaningless: whether to have meat or bread for supper, or to pick yellow or white flowers for a bouquet.

But sometimes, a choice can change the course of your family history.

Sometimes …a choice can change everything.

The golden light filtered down through the leafy green foliage of the trees in the early morning. Dew dripped off the brilliant June flowers and off the spiders' gossamer handiwork. Sleepy birds chirped and warbled their morning melodies into the poignant air. As the setting moon vanished behind a cloud, a pillar of mist rose up from the wet ground, spinning slowly, glistening like diamonds because of the dewdrops and filtered sunshine.

Slowly, the light formed the face of a young woman –ageless, regal, and unearthly, as the rest of her body resolved into a discernible shape. The long hair cascaded down her back, covering the cape she hardly needed, being ethereal. Her gown was plain, accenting her simple but noble features. She began to walk over the moss, a smooth motion one would take for floating if you had not seen her slippers occasionally peep out from under the skirt of her gown as she walked.

She paused at the edge of the forest bordering a meadow and her insubstantial form sat on a stone there, waiting. A few minutes later, a small fawn, no more than a few days old, poked its head out of the trees and trotted happily to the woman. A light smile graced her face; she reached out a thin hand and rubbed the fawn on the head. They were obviously friends. After a few minutes of this welcoming affection, the fawn trotted back to the edge of the forest, where a large doe waited patiently. The mother bent down to give its child a lick with its tongue, and then they both wandered out of sight.

A loud noise echoed, and the woman's head lifted sharply, making her hair swirl around her. Her eyes focused on a tall figure at the other end of the meadow.

A young man had dropped his axe. Mouth open with shock, green eyes wide, he stood there in his common woodcutter's garb, hand open. The woman frowned minutely, and he shut his mouth and picked up his axe hurriedly, blushing from embarrassment. She had not moved from her place upon the boulder except to place her hands in her lap.

He could not explain it –there was some connection to her that pulled him in. He hesitantly walked around the meadow to where she sat. When he got within a few steps of her, she stood, a fluid motion he almost could not see; one moment she sat and the next, she stood.

He reached up to snatch the hat off his blond head, and bowed to her.

"Do not bow to me. I am not God. But…you know who I am." Her voice was low, all at once embodying the burbles of the creek and wild songs of the birds. It was not a question, merely a statement of fact.

He straightened quickly. "Yes –Lady. You are… of the aelfe." He could have cursed his tongue for his ordinary sounding voice. When compared to her, he sounded like the squawking of a crow.

"Who… who are you?" She asked, and he could have sworn that if she were human she would have been hesitant.

"Linden, milady."

"I am Amaranth."

They stood in silence for a moment, he, unsure, she, considering. Then she reached up to touch his cheek with her translucent hand. He felt as if a wet flower petal had caressed him. He reached up in order to cover her hand with his own, but his hand came away wet with dew only.

A small smile lit her face, part amusement and part regret. She twisted her hair around her fingers. The mist, light, and dew that made up her form only held for the early morning and late night.

"Will I see you again?" he asked her, bringing her eyes up to his once again.

"If you wish it," she whispered.

"I do." His voice was equally soft.

"Then I will see you tomorrow."

He became almost like the fawn, visiting every day for a month. They did not speak much or often, only enjoyed the other's company, but when they did speak, it was of great importance.

The day she healed a great scratch on his arm was the day his head realized what his heart had known since the very first day he had met her.

The day she cured his cold, not with her own arts, but with the natural herbs and plants gifted with their own healing abilities, was the day she realized what she wanted out of life: to bring healing to everyone, and him.

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"You know that there is no going back," the deep ageless voice said to her.

"I know." Her voice was soft, weighted with the choice in her hands.

"There will be consequences no matter what path you choose, both good and bad," the deep voice continued. "Realize that."

"I have."

"Then all that is left is to make your choice."

She closed her eyes in silence. There would always be consequences for actions, she accepted that. It all came down to whether she would regret her decision and give in or stand firm and deal with the cost of her resolution when trouble reared its ugly head.

She knew what she wanted.

"I have chosen." Immediately, it felt as if her world had turned upside down.

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Linden walked into the meadow as usual, looking for Amaranth in her usual place.

She was not there. It felt as if he had swallowed the boulder she usually sat upon. _Why was she not here? Had she not wished to come anymore? Had he been a fool to entertain the thoughts he had had?_

Brush parted behind him with a loud rustle, and he turned. A girl about twenty, a year or so younger than he, emerged from the forest wearing a dove-gray kirtle. Her long hair, dark gold in color, fell down past her waist and her gray eyes sparkled in the light. Though her features were no longer otherworldly strange, they were still the same simple ones he remembered. He caught her soft, slim hand in his own large, rough ones. Though it was pale, she had _flesh_, human flesh!

"Amaranth?" he asked her in a whisper.

She shook her head in the negative. "I am Amaranth no more. Now I am Coriander."

He could hardly speak. He managed to get out, "How?"

"I made a choice." She smiled joyfully. "It was the right one."

"Me?"

She nodded, smiling wider. "I chose you."

He wrapped her in his arms, vowing to never let her go.

As the lovers embraced each other in the shaded glen, the aelfe watched, for it is their duty to watch, such as it is the bird's duty to sing and the ox's duty to plow and man's duty to govern over everything. And though consequences would come, Linden and Coriander –whose name means hidden worth –would stand firm under them, and they would receive the joys of a baby girl. They named her Celandine. And the aelfe would still be watching when these faithful parents would be buried in the earth and their grown daughter would find her calling as a woodwife. They would observe the birth of another baby girl –Rosemary, who would grow up to be the girl called Rowan Hood.

But that is another story.

Sometimes, the course of the world as we know it is made with a single choice.


	2. The Decision

**Sooooo... I have decided (with much prompting from Rawr I'm a Toaster; thanks [: ) to continue this story. I don't know how many more parts it will have, but at least two or three more. Anyhoo... enjoy! And Merry Christmas!**

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Dusk fell early in Sherwood Forest during the wintertime. The blond haired woman wrapped her shall around her tightly. Snow would fall later tonight, covering the ground with its powdery whiteness. The fire on the hearth inside the snug cottage called to her, asking her to come in and warm herself by its glow, and part of her wanted to accept. But she resolutely waited outside in the cold until she saw the glow of her husband's lantern peek through the trees. She smiled at his approach as the first few flakes began to fall.

"Evening, love," he said, kissing her on the cheek. "What are you doing out here in the cold?"

"Waiting for you. Supper's ready," she told him, going inside. She pulled the stew off the fire and ladled it into two bowls as he hung his cloak by the door. They ate in a comfortable silence, but he could tell something was troubling her. She had a tiny line between her eyebrows. He finished eating and then asked, point blank, "Cory, what's wrong?"

Coriander raised her gray eyes to his and sighed. Linden could read her easier than she would like. And it was no use to beat around the bush. "Your family does not want me here."

"That isn't their decision to make." Linden frowned; his family had been surprised when he had announced his intention to marry the young woman he had found in the forest –who wouldn't be?– but he thought they had accepted her, abet reluctantly.

"Maybe not, but they want you to be happy."

"They want me to be happy, but their definition of happy is marrying one of the village girls and living on the family property. I wouldn't be happy there. I belong with you." Linden smiled as Coriander's eyes lit up. "Why are you worrying? We're married now. They will have to be satisfied."

"Yes, but they can still make their displeasure known, and," she said earnestly, "I do not want to come between you and your family."

"You aren't, and you won't." He reached across the table and took her hands in his own.

"I fear I am still too _aelfen_," she whispered.

"You are not," he told her strongly.

"I am enough to be uncomfortable to the point of illness without the forest around me. And I inconvenience you and then everyone asks questions…"

"Coriander, _it doesn't matter."_

She looked at him strangely and raised an eyebrow. "Doesn't it?"

Linden gazed at her. What was going on with her? "Did something happen today?"

The blond woman looked down at the wood grain of the table.

"_Cory…_" he reached across the table and grabbed her hands, "talk to me."

She closed here eyes and took a deep breath. When her gray eyes opened again, she had control of her emotions; she locked them away to deal with at another time. "At the market today, I heard someone whisper 'witch' as I walked by. I don't know who it was," she said, heading off his first question, "and I didn't want to know."

Linden scooted back his chair. "Come here," he said, pulling gently on her hands. She stood and walked around the table, and he tugged her onto his lap, holding her silently. They stayed like that quietly for a time.

"We could go away," he said finally.

Coriander turned to look at him, surprise and shock in her eyes. "What?"

"We could leave Sherwood. Journey to another village, suitably close to a forest. Woodcutters are always needed. What do you think?"

She still stared at him. "But your family…friends…"

Linden told her roughly, "They aren't my family and friends if they can't treat my wife with the respect she is due. Besides, you'll never be happy here as long as people know you were once _aelfen."_

"They don't know that I am _aelfen_ for sure."  
"Methinks they know that you are _something_ different. Elsewise, why call you witch?"

She had no answer for that.

"You didn't answer my question, Cory. What do you think?" Linden asked probingly.

Her eyes were regretful. "I'd like it very much."

He kissed the top of her head. "It's settled then. Spring, we find a new place to start over."

She smiled lovingly and got off his lap, taking up the dirty bowls. "Where, though?"

"What do you think about Barnesdale forest?


	3. The Surprise

**AN: Yeah, this is pretty short. Sorry! The next one will hopefully be longer. Thanks again to Rawr I'm a Toaster for the continued prompting. Enjoy.**

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"Thank you, mistress," The young mother told Coriander as she gripped the vial tightly.

Coriander smiled. "You're welcome." As the mother walked her son down the path out of the forest, Coriander breathed in the spring air. It had been a month since they had moved to Barnesdale forest, and she was happy here. The small cottage behind her sported a newly thatched roof. In the glen, the songbirds trilled that winter had melted away and spring had sprung forth from the ground again. Flowers were beginning to bloom, too –wildflowers of all colors and hues, emitting their sweet fragrance into the air. It felt _right_ to be here, and Coriander was happy.

She also was happy to help the villagers. In the short span of a month she had gained a reputation as a wise woman who could cure aches and ailments of all kinds. Working with plants calmed her, made her content and clear.

She also liked children. She smiled slightly and went inside the cottage, putting supper on to cook.

Just as light was fading, Linden walked in the door, giving her a kiss. Coriander smiled up at him. "Evening, love." She added, "You'd better sit down."

He gave her a funny look, but sat down on a stool. "What is it?"

She leaned over and whispered in his ear, "I'm going to have a baby." She beamed at him, enjoying his completely flabbergasted expression.

"A baby?"

She nodded happily.

"You mean a baby?"

Coriander laughed. "Yes!" She took his hand and placed it on her stomach. "A real, live baby. You're going to be a father."

His eyes lit up and he gave her a huge hug, being careful not to squash her. "And you're going to be a mother," he whispered in her ear.


	4. The Gift

**New chap! :) fluff and stuff... yeah. review, please.**

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Coriander put one hand on her aching back and the other on her protruding stomach. Linden gave her a look. "I told you not to pick up that piece of firewood."

She huffed. "I want to do _something._ I can't just sit around and let you do everything for me."

"Why don't you churn the milk the Potters gave us into butter? I'll even get the churn ready for you."

"No! I can do it myself," Coriander said, getting up.

Linden smiled a secret smile as she walked away, and got up from the woodpile to venture into the little hut he used for storage. He pulled the cloth off the project he'd been working on for quite some time, and picked up a carving tool. With luck, he'd have this done by the end of the day. As he moved along the plane of wood, he couldn't help but wonder if she'd like it. Cori had had mood swings, very unlike her usual calm nature, but always the next day she had apologized very prettily. He knew it was because of the baby. He couldn't even get his arms around her very well anymore. _All the more reason to get finished fast._

Coriander wrestled with the large butter churn, turning the paddles to change the milk into butter. _Magic is much easier._ She then thought,_ but I'm human now. I will do things the human way. _She set to it with a will.

Coriander placed a hand on her aching back. She had finished churning the butter, after what seemed like an eternity. _I chose a hard life when I chose humanity. But I'm not sorry._ It was almost twilight by now. _I'd better get supper going,_ she thought to herself. She set out the rest of the bread and cheese, and found the smoked venison the neighbors had brought over. Coriander knew it wasn't legal to shoot the king's deer, but peasants needed food. She signed and sat down. All she really wanted to do was go to sleep.

"Cory?" Linden said, poking his head in the door.

"Yes?" she said, looking up.

"I have a surprise for you."

"Oh?" She asked, intrigued. "It doesn't have anything to do with whatever it is you've been hiding in the lean-to, would it?"

"Actually, it does." He bent down to pick up something out of her line of sight and walked into the cottage.

Coriander gasped and sat down quickly. "Oh, Linden, it's beautiful!" 'It' was a baby's cradle, made from sturdy oak and perfectly balanced on its rockers. A heart was carved above the head of the cradle. She began to cry, not knowing why. Instantly his arms were around her, holding her tight.

"What's wrong?" he asked, concerned.

"Nothing, nothing's wrong," she said, shaking her head and sniffing. "It's just so perfect. Thank you so much!"

"I wanted our baby to have something beautiful to sleep in," Linden said, placing a hand on her stomach.

"You don't care whether it's a boy or girl?" Cory asked, wiping her eyes.

"Not a bit, love. It's ours, whate'er it is."

She smiled at him, full of love. He bent down and kissed her, and she kissed him back, enjoying the feeling of his mouth on hers. The baby in her stomach chose that moment to kick, and Linden broke the kiss, laughing.

"Our child doesn't think much of me kissing its mother, hmm? Well, you just tell her I can kiss you when I like."

"That you can," she whispered. "Do you think it's a girl?"

"Who'd mind more if I kissed you, a girl or a boy?"

"A girl," Coriander agreed, laughing. "I love you."

"I love you too, Coriander." He kissed her again.


	5. The Joy

**This will be the last chapter for a while, so consider it complete unless I get a burst of inspiration from somewhere. Or more prodding. Anyway. Here goes. Enjoy. I own nothing, yada yada yada...**

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Linden paced outside the small cottage in the early morning light. His wife had waked him before daylight, telling him to go get the midwife. Honestly, he thought she was calmer than he had been when she told him her pains were coming on. He had nearly run to the village and woken up Goodwife Smith to come and assist at Cory's birthing. When he had arrived back, Coriander had been a few shades whiter and much less calm. The Goodwife had shooed him out of the cottage, telling him it was no use to be hovering around his wife, that she would get the baby born better if he didn't seem so anxious.

So here he was, pacing around in the meadow behind the cottage. Every time he heard a cry from the cottage he'd jump. Running a hand through his hair, he could not imagine going through this again.

Finally, he sat down on an old tree stump and closed his eyes, sighing deeply. When he finally opened his eyes, he almost fell off the tree stump. There, in front of him, were the aelfe. The mist swirled up out of the earth and formed numerous figures, some male, and some female, all ageless and shockingly regal.

"Do not be worried," the man closest to him told him, his rich bass voice resounding. "Your wife and daughter will be fine."

"Daughter?" Linden managed to say.

"Yes. Many blessings to you on this day. What boon would you ask of us, Linden, now of Barnesdale?"

"Boon?" Linden asked. "I'm very grateful, but I need nothing. I have all I need."

They looked amongst each other and smiled. "That is a very good thing. Please accept this gift, for the child." The first one held out an ethereal hand.

Linden reached out to accept whatever was in his fist. He was wordless when a silver ring, made of six intertwining strands was placed into his palm. It was a gimmal ring. He looked up again, and the aelfe were gone.

He was still staring at the ring when Goodwife Smith opened the cottage door and called him. "Come see your new baby girl!"

He took off at a run, and arrived at Coriander's side panting and breathless. She was tired and sweaty, with her hair plastered to her forehead, but she beamed with more light than seemed possible at him. At times like these, he was reminded just how beautiful and precious she was. "Look," she whispered, holding up the wrapped bundle.

Coriander smiled as Linden stared at their baby with a look of shock and awe. "Do you want to hold her?" she asked softly. Linden reached out to accept the sleeping girl, and Cory's heart overflowed with love at the look he gave the tiny infant. Her eyes and hair were brown, and each of her fingers and toes were perfect.

"She's beautiful, just like her mother," Linden said.

"I'll go now," Goodwife Smith said, tying on her bonnet. "You can call me if you need me."

"Thank you so much, Goodwife," Cory said.

Linden paid her generously, and she left with a smile.

"Guess who I saw in the meadow," Linden said softly, still holding the baby.

Coriander gave him an odd look.

"The aelfe."

Her eyes opened wide, and fear tingled down her spine. "What did they want?"  
"They extended blessings, and gave me a gift for the baby," he said, holding out his hand. Coriander picked up the ring and stared in awe.

"I've never known them to do anything like this," she whispered, turning it over in her hand.

"What are we going to call her?" Linden asked, knocking her out of her thoughts.

Coriander took her daughter back and smiled at her scrunched up face. "I'm not sure," she said, looking out the window. The flowers were blooming heartily, showing their multi-colored petals to the morning sun. The most profuse flowers were the small yellow blossoms. "What about Celandine?" Coriander asked.

"It's a beautiful name," Linden said, sitting on the bed beside her. She rested her head on his shoulder as he wrapped his strong arm around her. "Do you think I can get you back now?" he whispered in her ear.

"Now for a while," she said, smiling. "This little one's going to be a lot of work."

"I can wait," he said, kissing her cheek.

Coriander pulled him closer and covered his lips with hers. He buried his hands in her hair and kissed her back. As Coriander broke the kiss, she saw that little Celandine had woken up and was staring up at them. "You were right, you know," Cory said. "She doesn't like to see us kiss." They both laughed, not believing anyone else on earth could be as happy as they were right then.


	6. The Meeting

**Okay. So this is dedicated to Rawr I'm a Toaster because she gave me the idea. After this, I won't be doing anymore because I now have 0 ideas. Unless she gives me another and I start writing again. :P Okay, here you are.**

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"Celandine," Coriander called, "Come set the table." The blond woman looked out the door and see her seven-year-old daughter picking the flowers she was named for. "Celandine, now."

The brown haired little girl rolled her green eyes and got up, dusting off her skirt and clutching her bouquet. "Mother," she said, coming in the doorway and going to the cupboard to find a cup to put the flowers in. "I was doing something."

"Everyone is," Cory told her. "And you are setting the table now."

Celandine sullenly set the table, banding down the wooden plates and cups.

"This is about the _aelfe,_ isn't it?" Coriander said, tucking her hair behind her ear.

"I can see them," Celandine said. "But they don't ever talk to me. They hate me." She frowned angrily.

"The _aelfe_ don't hate. It isn't in their nature. They don't interact with people unless there's a reason."

"Isn't saying 'good marrow' enough of a reason?" her daughter asked, wrapping her arms around herself.

Coriander sighed. Her daughter had a strong gift to heal, and do other magics. She had only told her about her heritage a few weeks ago, when her powers had come out, and ever since Celandine had been a huge ball of nerves with a sharp tongue. Cory stared at her daughter's angry stance; Celandine let her dark hair shade her face as she fiddled with the green material of her dress. "Honey, the _aelfe_ aren't like us. They don't make idle conversation."

"Then what do they do?" Her daughter burst out. "All you ever tell me is what they don't do. They don't do this; they don't do that. You were one of them once," she said, casting an accusatory glance at Coriander.

"But I'm not one anymore. I can't really think the way I did then, so I don't know how to explain –"

"_See_, even _you_ don't do anything! They don't hate; they don't talk to us. They don't do anything! What's the point to them?!" Celandine said, running out the door.

"Celandine!" Coriander yelled, going to the door just in time to watch her daughter run across the meadow and disappear into the forest. She sighed sadly and leaned against the doorpost. She loved her daughter, and she hated to see her in pain. _She's right. The aelfe don't hate. Their function is to watch over and protect. And they don't really love, either. _Coriander rubbed her eyes. _And that's why I left them._

Coriander watched dusk fall, with no sign of Celandine. The only person she saw was her husband walking down the path to her cottage. "Linden," she called, walking out to meet him. He set his axe down and kissed her.

"Evening, love." He spotted Coriander's worried look. "Where's Cely?"

"I have no idea."

His eyebrows rose, and he put an arm around her. "What happened?"

"We had an argument," Cory began, "about… you know. And she ran off to the forest, like she usually does. But she's always come back before." Her face began to take on an air of desperation. "What if something happened to her?"

"Can't you find out?" Linden said.

A guarded look entered her eyes. "You know why I can't do that," she whispered. "I chose. It wasn't a back and forth agreement. I'm either human, or _aelfen_. No in between." She didn't know what would happen if she tried.

Linden nodded slowly. "The only in-between one allowed here is Cely, right?"

Coriander nodded, glad he understood.

Linden sighed. "Then I guess we'll have to do this the hard way."

Celandine lay on her back on the green forest floor, staring up at the fading sun through the branches of the massive oaks. She was just _so tired_ of it all. All the rigmarole about these powers she suddenly had, about the fact that her mother once used to be an ethereal being, and about the fact that her relatives would not acknowledge her. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, and she rolled over, letting the tears come.

"Daughter, what is the matter?" a soft voice asked after a few minutes.

"Mother, I don't want –" Celandine began as she rolled back over, and then stopped. It was not Coriander. Mist swirled from the ground, making a pillar. The water droplets formed to show the image of a woman –ageless, serene, and wise. Celandine was immediately conscious of the leaves in her hair and on her dress.

"Daughter. Let your heart be at peace," she said, gracing the little girl with a small smile. "You are only a piece of a much larger puzzle; a much larger destiny. Learn what your mother has to teach you. Grow into your full potential."

"Why do you care?" the brown-haired girl managed to ask.

The misty woman extended a translucent hand that reached out and touched Celandine's silver ring around her thumb, the only finger it would fit on at her age. "This gimmal ring is a sign, child. All will be well."

"I don't understand."

"Nothing is ever clear until its own time. Listen. Watch. The boy needs you as well."

"Boy? What –" Celandine began, but the figure blurred and dissipated. She took in a shaky breath and stood, brushing off the leaves from her green kirtle and pulling pine needles out of her hair. It was truly dusk now; the sun had gone down behind the western trees. "I suppose I should go home," she whispered to herself, and started off, keeping aware of her surroundings so that she did not miss the signs of her path in the near dark.

Suddenly, the crackle of bracken and rustle of leaves on her right made her pause. Her breath hitched in her throat, and for a minute she couldn't breathe. Her leather slippers made no sound as she slowly, little by little, began to back up.

A figure with a mop of flaxen hair dashed out of the bushes, and she shrieked involuntarily. His blue eyes met her green ones, and she noted the scrapes on his face.  
"They're coming," he gasped out.  
"Who?" she asked, helping him up.

"Wolves," he said.

Celandine's eyes opened hugely right before she heard a growl. "What did you do?!" she hissed, trying to think of what to do, especially with a boy a little older than her hanging on her arm, looking like he could barely walk anymore.

He gave her a strange look, but before he could say anything, a wolf soared out from the darkness to lunge straight at them. They both screamed, and all Celandine could think of was that she had to do something!

She wrapped her arms around the boy and prayed. Suddenly, the wolf yelped. She opened her eyes to see three or four wolves begin to circle the two of them. She held onto the boy tighter. One of them leapt, and both of the children flinched, but the wolf was stopped a foot or two from them and fell over.  
"What are they doing?" Celandine whispered.

"Circling," the boy whispered. "But it looked like… the big one hit something when he lunged."

Come to think of it, Celandine did feel a weight pressing down on her. But there was nothing there! Nothing... just like the _aelfe_ looked like there was nothing there. _Are they doing this?_ They both jumped as an arrow flew out of the darkness, thudding into the wolf that had jumped them. More arrows rained down at the wolves, and those that weren't killed ran off. Celandine's heart began to slow down, and she could catch a breath.

"It's okay," the boy said. "That's my pa."

"Robin!" A big man who looked like the older version of the boy, except with dark hair ran out from the trees. He paused right before he reached them and ran his and over hair. "Son?" he asked, a strange look on his face.

"Cely," Coriander's voice said, arriving before her as Linden helped her around the trees. "Cely, you can drop your protection mantle, love." The blond woman who used to be _aelfen_ walked to her daughter, ignoring the still-warm bodies of the wolves. "Cely, calm down. Let the mantle drop," she said, staring into her daughter's eyes with her own grey ones.

Celandine blinked her fern green eyes. _Is it –me?_ She tried to do as her mother asked, breathing deeply and letting her muscles relax. Her hold on the boy loosened, and suddenly there was no more pressure or barrier. The man picked up his son and hugged him tight, and Cory and Linden did the same with Celandine.

"Thank you," the man said finally.

"No. Thank _you," _Coriander said firmly. Coriander stayed to talk to the man, and Celandine peeked around her father's arms as he carried her away. She smiled and gave a tiny wave to the blond boy –Robin.

She liked the robin birds. She thought she'd like this boy. She hoped she would see him again.


	7. The Encounter

AN: Oh geez. Here we go again. Rawr, stop doing this! Oh yeah, I gave them flowery language. It just kind of fit, so sue me. If the readers have problems with it, y'all need to get out more. okay. here ya go.

**7: The Encounter**

She was so close. The fawn was only inches from her hands. Celandine could barely force herself to keep from moving as the brown-spotted young deer inched toward the grain in her hand.

Suddenly, a twig snapped from behind her, and the little fawn bolted back into the undergrowth to its mother. Cel whirled around, her eyes seeking out the intruder into her woodland haven. An adolescent boy, only about 15 years, a year older than her, blended into the backdrop of green leaves perfectly with his Lincoln green jerkin. His mouth hung open in amazement, staring at her. A limp bow with an arrow set to the string hung loosely from his hands.

"What dost thou think thou art doing, knave?" Celandine snapped, standing up from her crouch. "Spying?"

"Nay, gentle lady," the boy with flaxen hair replied, finding his tongue. "Merely standing in awe of such witchery."

"A witch I am not," Cel snapped again, twitching her skirts.

"Then how didst thou spell the fawn?" the boy countered, stepping out of the foliage.

"I did not," she said. "The babe wanted the grain I had in mine hands. 'Twas patience that coaxed her out."

The boy remained unconvinced. "Still, no wild thing comes within six paces of a human without choice. How didst thou confuse thy scent?"

"I did not."

"Spells, I say."

"Nay!"

"Aye!"

Celandine glared at this rude boy. " 'Tis no business of thine. And what dost thou think thou art doing with yon bow?" She demanded. "Think you of shooting the King's deer?"

He smiled, a handsome sight. "Nay," he laughed, "Such an offense is worthy of a prison sentence. I am merely practicing my aim upon tree stumps and rabbits."

Cel said, "Out of my way, boy." She lifted her kirtle out of the weeds and tried to pass him by.

"May I know the name of such a fair maid who charms fawns out from their mothers?" the boy inquired cheekily, not moving in the slightest.

"Nay, thou might not," Celandine said. "No one who kills animals for mere sport deserves my name."

"Hey!" he exclaimed as she strode past him. "Wait!"

"You cannot even keep up with a maid in skirts?" Celandine taunted. Far to her left, she felt the silvery tug on her heart that meant water was near. She breathed in the scent of loam deeply, loving her forest, missing her mother.

It had been just two years ago that she had died of a fever. She would not heal herself, and Celandine did not have the knowledge to heal her. Celandine had not understood why Coriander would not heal herself. But one day, when her mother was sleeping, Linden, her father, explained it to her. _"Cely, love, your mother is very afraid that if she uses her aelfin magic, she will become totally aelfin again. And she loves us both too much to want that to happen. So she is willing to take the chance that she could die to stay human. For us."_

And die she did.

Something in Celandine's chest constricted as she remembered that conversation, and her foot stumbled over an exposed oak tree root. She was just about to go sprawling on her face before a hand closed on her elbow and kept her upright.

"I may not be able to keep up with such a maid, but I can rescue a damsel in distress, forsooth," his voice said, disguising a laugh.

Cel wrenched her arm from his grip. "I am not a damsel in distress, good sir, and my person needs no rescuing."

"I have moved up from knave to good sir?" the boy asked, still smiling. "What wouldst thou call saving a pretty maiden from falling on her face?"

Celandine blushed slightly, a little flattered and a little angry. "I wouldst call it a kindess. Thank you," she said stiffly. "I must leave or my father will come looking for me."

"For a gift of gratitude, may I know thy name before thou leaves?" the boy said, leaning on his bow.

She looked down at her green dress and then said, "Celandine." She could not fathom the strange grin that encompassed his face at the mention of her name. "What?"

"A maid who charms fawns and staves off wolves. Impressive."

She felt her mouth drop open, mirroring the expression he had had earlier when he had spied her attempting to feed the fawn. "What?" she yelped in a shrill voice. "How dost thou know of that?"

He pushed the mop of hair off of his head. "I was there, pretty Celandine."

"Then you are…." She trailed off.

He swept his cap off of his head in a deep bow. "Robin, my lady, lately of Loxley."


	8. The Offer

**AN: So...this was going to be the last chapter...and it got kind of long... so it'll be two chaps. Don't worry! I've got half the second chap done. I just need to write the end. So it won't be forever before I post again. Okay. Here ya go :)**

He stood back, staring at his hiding place. Scattering a few more leaves over the hidden carcass, he smiled, satisfied with his camouflage. The sound of a hunting horn blasted through the air, and quite close to him as well. Snatching his bow from the forest floor, he leaped over a fallen log and dashed through the underbrush, attempting to escape his pursuers.  
The king's men did not take the killing of the king's deer lightly, and that was what he had just done.

* * *

Celandine walked through the forest in her green dress, holding her skirt carefully because it was full of coltsfoot. Her eyes were trained on the forest floor, scouring it fore more coltsfoot to fill up her store. The herb woman's head snapped up as she heard the call of a hunting horn, far off. She and the castle folk had had many disagreements in the past, she remembered, picking up her pace. She did not want to run into them again, and darkness was closing in.

As her leather slippers found their way silently over the forest floor, rustling in the underbrush alerted her to another's presence. Bracken crackled. Celandine wondered, _it can't be a frightened animal, or else it would be running. A predator would be silent. So…_ her green eyes narrowed.

"Come out," she called. "I know you're there. Stop hiding."

"Can't you at least keep your voice down?" someone mumbled. A man stepped out from behind a tree. He looked like a yeoman, with fair hair and blue laughing eyes and a quirk to his mouth. "How did you know I was there?"

Celandine blinked. "I heard you. It has been a while, Robin of Locksley." Seven years was a long time. She was now one and twenty, almost an old maid, though she did not look it. He was a little older, perhaps.

"How did you –" he began, surprised. He took a step forward and studied her face. "Oh," he said softly. "Celandine the seeress. A pleasure, milady." He swept her a bow fit for court. "But I'm afraid your powers haven't told you. I hail no more from Locksley."

"I used no powers to deduce who you were," she snapped. "I merely remembered." Eyeing him suspiciously, she asked, "And from whence do you hail, if not from Locksley?"  
"The greenwood, milady. Sherwood Forest."

Her mouth opened slightly, recognition dawning on her. "So _you're_ the one who upset Prince John's archery tournament."

He grinned at her. "Aye. They've called me a wolf's head."

A hunting horn sounded, much nearer now, as well as the far-off shouts of men and the neighs of horses. "And I suppose those are the hounds that are after you?" Celandine asked innocently.

He ran a hand through his hair. "Yes, I, uh, killed one of the king's deer."

"Why?"

"I was hungry," he said, raising an eyebrow at her.  
"And I suppose you've got it in your pocket," she snapped, moving away from him down the trail only she could see, back to her cottage in what the villagers had dubbed 'Celandine's Wood.'

"No, I hid it in a pit," he said, keeping up with her.

"And left a trail a mile long, no doubt," she said, hurrying along. "You really need to learn to be silent in the forest."

"I'm doing fine," he said.

"Oh, like you are now?" she said. "Huntsmen after you, nowhere to go?"

"But you'll help me," he said, "Won't you?"

"Don't count on it, Robin of Locksley," she said.

Hooves pounded nearby, and he pulled her off her track. "They're coming!" he hissed, shoving her into the underbrush and spilling her coltsfoot. She bit back a cry of protest when he burrowed into a stand of bushes to get to a fallen log. Lifting it up with strong arms, she saw that it was halfway hollow. "Come on!" he said, pulling her as she crawled toward him in her green dress.

He wrapped one arm around her before letting the log drop back down on top of them.

Celandine tried to calm her heart, which had started beating frantically. Why had he pulled her under the log? She had done naught wrong! _He_ was the wolf's head, the wanted man, and the outlaw. A horse snorted nearby, which made her jump, but he pulled her close to him and whispered, "Shh."

_What am I even thinking? I can keep us safe! What happened to me that I forgot all about the strong, independent, wise woman that I am? _She thought, and quickly threw a mantle of protection about the log in which they hid, as well as a spell of concealment.

Finally, a man said, "Come on, men. 'E's not 'ere. Move down toward the village, see if you can pick up his trail there." With calls toward their horses, the hunter's departed.

Celandine let out the breath that she had been holding and dropped her spells. "You can let me up now," she whispered, suddenly aware of his arm about her waist and his breath on her ear.

"Right," he replied, and shoved the log up.

She rolled out and stood, shaking leaves and grass from her skirt and hair. "I don't know why you did that," she said, voicing her confusion. "I wasn't in any danger."

"They're mercenaries, lady," he said, his blue eyes serious and level, the first time she had seen then like that. "If they ran across a beautiful woman in the greenwood, they wouldn't care about…propriety, or morals."

"Oh," she whispered, her green eyes widening. "Thank you."

" 'Twas nothing, milady," he said, lifting her hand that wore the gimmal ring to his lips and kissing it.

"I'm no lady," she said, trying to keep the blush from her face. "Only a woodwife."

"But you're a lady to me." He bowed and turned around.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"To reclaim my deer," he said, "And then probably back to Sherwood."

"Bring your deer to my cottage," she said, surprising even herself with her offer. "It will be easier to cure there, and you can sleep on something besides tree roots."

He stared at her, surprised. "You would want a wolf's head in your home, lady?"

"It's the least I can do to thank you," she replied.

He thought for a minute, and then nodded. "How do I get there?"

"Do you see this trail?" Celandine asked, pointing to the barely discernable grass track on the ground.

"The one that looks like a game trail?" he asked.

"Yes. Follow it, and you will get to my house," she said smiling. He nodded.

They both disappeared into the forest, going separate ways, but destined to meet again soon.


	9. The Beginning

**AN: OKAY THIS IS OFFICIALLY THE LAST CHAPTER! Here you go :)**

9

Robin walked through the forest and thought on what Celandine had said, about learning to walk quietly in the forest. Of course, he did it when he was hunting game, but then he let his guard down at other times. He supposed that he _should_ be always alert to things around him, slipping silently through trees and avoiding making any noise at all. She had a point. She had a lot of good points, actually.

Celandine had changed a lot since he had last seen her. She wasn't a girl anymore –she was a cool, confident woman with remarkable power. And stunningly beautiful, he thought as he reached the hiding place for his deer. Brushing away the leaves that concealed his kill, he hoisted the deer over his shoulders and began to retrace his steps. It wasn't so much that she was attractive, he thought to himself as he walked along, as that she was smart and could carve him into pieces with his tongue.

He found the trail that was barely there and started along it, surprised at how easy it was to walk on, and wondered how Celandine had ever discovered it.

_I guess she's just surprising._

* * *

Celandine finished building up the fire in the hearth for Robin's arrival. She had already taken care of the smoke house.

She smiled slightly.

Maybe she'd just have a little fun with Robin of Sherwood.

* * *

Leaving his cut-up deer in the smokehouse, Robin washed his hands at the stream; a little surprised that Celandine hadn't come out to meet him. She must be there; smoke drifted out of the chimney. He rubbed his hands on his pants to dry them and walked to the door of the cottage.

He knocked and called, "Celandine? It's me, Robin." He waited a minute or two. Nothing. Knocking harder, he said, "Celandine?"

He tried the door, and surprisingly, it wasn't locked. He pushed it open and glanced inside. A fire crackled on the hearth, but she wasn't in the main room. A small door led to a room that held a bed and a table, little else. "Where could she have gone?" he mumbled, walking out the door of the cottage?

"Where are you going, Robin?"

He turned around so fast his head hit the top of the doorframe and he winced, closing his eyes. A moment later, when he opened them, there sat Celandine stirring a pot on the hearth. His mouth dropped open. "How did you –I thought –"

She smiled mischievously. "I told you. I'm a wood wife."

"You said you didn't have any powers," he accused, coming inside.

"No," she said, "I told you I didn't use any powers to charm the faun." She cast him a strange look. "You still remember that?"

"Of course I do," he said, sitting down.

Her green eyes stared at him, taking him in. He felt like he was falling into her gaze, and sighed when she blinked, freeing him. "So what do you call yourself, if not Robin of Locksley?" she asked, turning her attention back to the pot.

"My men have begun to call me Robin Hood."

"Your men?" she asked.

"Yes. We've got a regular outlaw band in Sherwood."

"Well if they're all as loud as you in the forest, you won't have one for much longer," she muttered.

"Well, what do you suggest, fair lady?" he asked sarcastically. "We can't all be spirits in the greenwood."

Her eyes darted to his once again, and he wondered what he had said. "Wear green, for one thing," she said, reaching out to tug on his sleeve. "You'd blend in easier."

"Something you've thought of?" he asked, glancing at her green dress.

"Yes," she smiled, and handed him a bowl of stew.

* * *

_He was a charmer, _she reflected, watching him as he ate, seated on the same bench she was. _He cares about his men and about his cause. But he's really only a mediocre outlaw. I shall have to do something about that._ She smiled as she placed her own spoon in her mouth. It would be easy enough. Disguise and protection spells would work well enough, until he learned for himself how to move around his Sherwood without detection.

"What are you smiling about?" he asked her suddenly, staring at her face.

"Oh, nothing," she said, but the smile got wider even as she tried to hide it.

"It is not nothing," he said. "What?"

"How on earth do you get around your forest without anyone catching you?" she asked.

He smiled that cocky smile. "It's a very big forest, milady."

"Why don't you call me by my name?" she blurted out suddenly, blinking.

His blue stare was wide and open. "Do you want me to?"

Butterflies fluttered in her stomach. "I wish you would."

"Why?" he asked, scooting down the bench so that he was closer to her.

_Well, because it's my name,_ she thought, but she didn't say it. "Because I like it when you say my name," she said softly, her green eyes staring into his.

He smiled slightly. "I like it when you say my name, too."

She smiled and leaned forward slightly to whisper in his ear. "Robin Hood," she said, her breath tickling the hair by his ear.

"Celandine," he murmured.

She froze at the feeling of lips on her neck and her breathing hitched. He pulled back to look her in the eyes again, a little hesitant, a little daring. He leaned forward and she leaned forward too, meeting him halfway.

As first kisses go, this one was first rate, tip top. It was sweet and chaste. Two hearts beckoned to each other, welcoming, inviting. The tall trees overhead whispered the call to each other, and it went out from there. The aelfe hear the trees' song and they sighed. A beginning had been made, two hearts fused, forever entwined.

The old aelfe in Celandine's Wood murmured to himself, and to Barnesdale Forest, and to Sherwood's ancient oaks, "It has begun."

_And so, the story begins…_


End file.
